


The Moon, Reversed

by Cluegirl



Category: Harry Potter - Rowling
Genre: AU, M/M, bonding fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-08-19
Updated: 2010-08-19
Packaged: 2017-10-11 04:12:35
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,259
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/108248
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cluegirl/pseuds/Cluegirl
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Lucius Malfoy has captured Remus Lupin, but the bargain he makes will cost him more than he expects.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Moon, Reversed

Lucius Malfoy stood in the Soft Dungeon and watched through the cell's barred door while his prisoner slept. He was tired from the night-long hunt, and still a bit jittery from the adrenaline rush of the capture. His arm, though healed, was still sore, and if he pulled away the bloody sleeve of his hunting robes, he could still see the the bite mark over the shadowy Morsmordre. Two dozen ruddy pearls glared against his pale skin, where an hour ago had been a deep, bloody ring -- a gory crescent that crushed the skull and halfed the serpent when he turned his arm just so.

Still, the triumph of the morning's hunt remained intact, for the toothmarks were fading away while Lucius watched, but his captive; disarmed and unconscious, was going nowhere.

Remus Lupin slept, curled into a corner of his cell where the watery sunlight did not pierce the shadows. His hair gleamed dully with far more silver than a wizard his age had any right to and the gloom of his cell could not disguise the bruised exhaustion haunting that face. Lucius couldn't help but smirk. A canny creature, this wolf, and not an easy catch, but well worth the trouble. Lucius' left arm gave a doubtful throb, and he idly rubbed his thumb over the barely-there swelling.

_Mere instinct,_ he assured himself, thinking of those heated, frantic yellow eyes. Lupin's face, so calm in slumber now, had twisted into a beastly snarl in the pre-dawn gloom as the naked wizard charged through the circle of hunters like the wolf he had been hours before. _He was startled, caught off guard without his wand just after his change. Understandable, really, that his mind was still that of an animal, but he was fully human. The bite meant nothing. Means nothing._

Lupin stirred, as though barely aware of his audience. He stretched and then settled again, far too relaxed for a beast in a cage -- far too peaceful for a wizard unarmed and naked in the stronghold of his enemy. Liquid in languor, and somehow elegant despite the scars that raked brightly across that pale skin. Lucius traced the ragged lines with his eyes, fascinated despite himself. He was a man used to perfection in all things -- a robe stained was as likely to be discarded as cleaned, a lover marred was a lover forgotten. So what was it about this hard-used man that made Lucius' eyes linger?

He idly swept his thumb over his arm again, feeling the throb -- not pain, exactly -- answer with an echo much lower down. Perhaps it was the elegant helplessness of the man. Such frantic resistance to the capture, only to settle into it now -- and not only settle in, but to somehow... expand to fill it with his presence... with his-

Eyes. Open, gleaming like lanterns in the dark. Lucius' whole skin tightened, from lips to bollocks, and though he managed not to show his reaction outwardly, it was several seconds before his heart slowed again. By which time, the captive had blinked, changing the angle of his head just enough to douse that eerie glow and resume once more the seeming of a naked wizard lounging on a thin pallet against the wall.

"Lucius Malfoy," The voice was low, perhaps a little ragged, but otherwise unruffled. "Lucius." Lower, as though trying the fit of the word on his tongue. "What do you want from me?"

"Nothing which is yours to give, I'm sure," Lucius found his voice at last, so relieved to hear it come out with precisely the level of smooth contempt he'd intended that he elected to overlook the uninvited use of his first name.

Lupin blinked and raised himself up to his elbows, but made no other move to collect himself. "Then why am I here?"

"You find your accommodations lacking?" Lucius drawled, "You'd prefer an oubliette, or perhaps a questioning cell within easy reach of the rack and Iron Maiden?" For the equipment in the Soft Dungeon was intended for torment of a very different sort, which tended to leave rather less permanent damage. Usually, anyway. Lucius schooled his thoughts away from that, and resumed his condescending smirk.

"Well, it would read true to type." And there was wariness in those amber eyes, but somehow the man's body reflected none of it. How could he sprawl so and still somehow display nothing? Was it an animal's ignorance of its own nudity at work here, or did the wretch somehow not feel the weight of Lucius' eyes on his skin?

"Well, I could torture you, yes, but that would get me no closer to my goal when all is said and sifted," Lucius answered, twirling his wand in his fingers, "And any information I could wring from you would come too late to turn any tide." He shrugged in response to Lupin's raised eyebrow, seeing no point in dissembling. "I know a lost cause when I see one, werewolf. The Death Eaters are a shattered force, Voldemort focused too much on his own escape to offer us any protection. Potter will chase him down -- perhaps tomorrow, perhaps next year, and after that..." he smiled, shrugged with one shoulder. "You are here, Mr. Lupin, as a token, not a source of information. A bargaining chip which I intend to trade when the time is right. Damaging you would merely lessen your eventual worth."

Lupin sat up at last, exposing white, lean chest, roseate nipples -- one flanked by long stripes of scar -- a dusting of hair that wandered down the planes of his belly toward.... "And just what do you think this life of mine is worth, Lucius?" The smirk in his voice dragged Lucius' eyes back up to the werewolf's face at once.

"Personally, not much." He did not blush at being caught -- Malfoys never blushed. "However, you are well liked by your allies -- Potter in particular -- seem quite possessive of you. I expect you to win me nothing less than my freedom, once all the shouting is over."

One eyebrow rose. "Freedom?"

Lucius scowled. "You find that amusing?"

"From a wizard who willingly accepted Voldemort's brand, I find it hysterical," Lupin replied, leaning back against the stones and dropping his feet to the floor. His cock rolled into one creased thigh and lay there, as heavy and smug as the wolf's own voice. "You don't want freedom, Lucius, you never have done. Power, yes, wealth, of course, fame, as much as you could get of it, but freedom?" He shook his head. "Snape wanted that. Your son too, before he died, but not you -- you want something else entirely."

The knowing voice scraped down his back, coiled like a bad meal in Lucius' stomach, and for a moment, he was almost relieved at the flash of anger. Just the distraction his dignity required. "Oh, and you suppose _you_ know what that is, do you?"

Only somehow the wolf's smile only deepened, grew fangs a little. And the curl in Lucius' stomach sank lower in direct response to that gleam. "Oh yes," Lupin replied, "I know exactly what that is."

Lucius produced his best doubtful sneer, but the explanation he waited for never came, and the predatory smile never wavered. "Well?" he demanded at last, "let's hear what you think you know, then!"

And at that, Lupin stood up. Uncoiled in a single, long slide. The patterned scars glided like shadows over a body sculpted with want and war and grief, but somehow the damage seemed regal in that too-small cell -- worn with unconscious pride, like the tiger's bars, the gryffin's cockade or the stallion's mane. As much a mark of strength, those flaws, as that lengthening cock that swung between his legs as he approached the bars with measured strides. Lucius did not step back. The wizard was unarmed, his lycanthropic transformation nearly a month away, his allies scattered wide to hunt the war to its bloody end. Lucius did not step back.

"No," said Remus Lupin, and curled both hands around the bars of his cage, "I don't think I _will_ tell you, Lucius. But open that door and bring my wand back to me, and I just might show you."

Lucius curled his lip. "We may be losing this war, Mr. Lupin, but I assure you it is not through _that_ sort of idiocy! I like you just where you are, and armed with nothing more than..." he glanced down at the man's cock, which was already more than half hard for some reason he couldn't fathom, then back up to his face. Lupin's eyes were closed, his mouth opened to show his tongue curled out just _so_ much over his teeth as he drew in the air. His nose wrinkled, and that was close enough to a smile to make Lucius' neck burn.

"Good day, Mr. Lupin," he snapped, turning on his heel and stalking across the dungeon.

The dry whisper of a laugh followed him, and a gentle call halted him on the threshold. "Call me Remus."

"What?" he glared over his shoulder.

"I want you to call me Remus. When you come back again. Don't forget." And then he turned away, just as if Lucius weren't standing there, wand in his hand -- as if Lucius hadn't faced him across a battlefield, had not captured him yesterday morning, did not now command the keys to the cage that imprisoned him...as if Lucius did not particularly concern him at all.

It took all his willpower not to rise to that bait, though later, sated after dinner and fortified with excellent port, Lucius could not for the life of him explain why that should have troubled him.

~*~

"What the devil have you done to me?!"

The wolf lifted his head, unhurried, blinked twice, and then sat up. "Lucius. Rather late for a visit, isn't it?" His sleepy gaze took in Lucius' dressing robe, rumpled hair and bare feet, "Having trouble sleeping?"

Lucius clutched his robe tighter, grinding his teeth as the silk dragged across the sticky head of his cock -- so hard it was sore, so desperate it wept in threads down his naked thighs. "I am not 'visiting', you bastard," he snarled, "I want to know what you've bloody well done! This curse, or whatever it is -- you're to take it off! I have stayed my hand from you, offered you no injury and no insult, and I will not stand for-!"

Lupin -- _Remus_ tipped his chin into the air, took another of those open-mouthed sniffs, this one loud and long, so that Lucius could hear the air scraping over his soft palate. Smelling Narcissa on him, Lucius realized as the wolf's cock gave a lurch of interest, smelling the sweat and sex and anger and _need_ on him. Another twitch, and a darkening flush spread over that cock as Remus shivered. Then his eyes blazed open, knowing and smug and _ damn him!_

"Is she very angry with you?"

_Livid!_ Lucius thought, _Insulted, and hurt, and DAMN YOU!_ but aloud, he said nothing, merely seethed as the captive wolf rolled to his feet and padded to the bars.

"You're confused," Remus said after a moment, "Understandable. But you'll get used to it."

"I WILL NOT GET-" Lucius seized the bars, snarling in Remus's face. "You will undo whatever it is you've done, and you will do so at once, or so help me, I will-"

"You won't," came the level reply, curling like a hand around Lucius' bollocks, "You can't, for the same reason you couldn't come before, with your wife. Tell her I'm sorry, please, but there's no changing things at this point." Remus trailed one hand down the bar, and grazed his palm lightly over Lucius' bloodless knuckles. "You're mine now," he said, "not hers, not Voldemort's. Mine. And your pleasure won't come from anyone else."

"You-!" Lucius snatched his hands away, fumbled his wand from his sleeve and jabbed the point at Lup-_Remus_'s throat. His blood boiled, and his breath knotted under that weighty yellow gaze. "Yours, am I?" he snarled, _*Crucio!*_

Except that what came out of his mouth and his wand was very much more like _"Alohomora!"_ The lock snicked open. The door gave a creak, swung ajar. Remus gave him a nod and an approving smile.

"Thank you, Lucius," said the yellow-eyed man, pulling the door wide, "Don't run."

He didn't get three meters before eleven stone of naked wizard bowled him over from behind. Lucius shouted as his wand jolted from his grip and skittered across the floor. Before he could stretch after it, Lucius found his wrist snared, his arm dragged up behind his back and pinned between his shoulders. He grunted as Remus clambered astride his hips, grinding Lucius' still-hard cock into the floor even as his own heated member pressed down like a brand through the bunched-up silk robe. The crush on his tormented cock was blinding. And yet...

And yet somehow it made his bollocks tighten, made him arch back his head, rock up his hips and bear into that steely pressure, frotting the tight-pressed creases of his goddamn robe in desperation, and managing -- only _just_ managing not to whimper. He flexed his fingers, but couldn't pull free of Remus' grip -- dug against the floor with his toes, but couldn't dislodge that solid, anchoring weight from his hips. In fact, what purchase he could find served only to shove his arse up against Remus' cock as he dragged the waist-tie free of Lucius' robe.

"No-" Lucius gasped as the tie fluttered down in an emerald pool just beside his cheek, "You can't mean to-"

Remus interrupted with a pleased sort of growl deep in his chest, then he rocked forward, low and hard against Lucius' back as he gathered a handful of his long hair. He didn't pull, didn't tear or twist, just held it in an inexorable grip that whispered _I could, if I chose; if you provoked me._ And that unspoken understanding dragged a groan from deep under Lucius' belly as Remus' lips grazed his ear.

"I told you," he growled, "not to run." The ragged stubble of three days without a razor snagged the silk robe, and a moment later, the slick fabric caught more firmly in the predator's teeth. He growled in his throat as he dragged the garment down, Lucius' shoulders, exposing his sweat-cold skin to the air...to him. Lucius made a sound he'd never imagined hearing out of his own throat. It burned, that sound, hot as a furious blush across his face even as it sparked a yearning ache in his trapped cock.

"I have to chase you when you run," he went on, fingers gentling, massaging against Lucius' scalp as he rocked that iron erection into the crease of his arse with endless rolling surges. The rough chin burned against Lucius' shoulder like a brand, made him gasp and roll his head to expose more -- neck, jaw, throat. "And once I catch you, I have to…"

_Merlinhe'sgoingto-!_

And he bit down hard just where Lucius' shoulder swept up into his throat. Lucius felt the shock of it roll through his body like a lightning strike from his pinned cock to his clenched belly, his neck, strained and aching and throbbing in that firm, not-quite-crushing jaw-hold. "Please," Lucius heard his voice say, though what he was begging for, he could not have told just then.

"If I let you go," Remus said between licks at the sore bite mark, "you'll fight, won't you? You'll try to run again?"

For a moment, Lucius was too lust-dazed to understand, then the fingers around his wrist slackened, released, stroked into his blood-starved palm. The spell shattered with a gasp and a lurch. "OF COURSE I'LL FIGHT, YOU CUR!" he bellowed, bucking hard, and wrenching his arm free.

Which Remus seemed to anticipate, because he recaptured Lucius's flailing arm at once, and dragged it right back up between his shoulders. "I thought as much," he said, securing the silky robe tie around Lucius' wrist, "All right then, I'll bind you just this once, but after this-" his words became muffled -- he'd put the tie between his teeth to free a hand. But before Lucius could try and capitalize on the weaker hold though, Remus had his left elbow pulled up beside his ear and his forearm folded back down over his shoulder so that his fingers just overlapped those of his right hand. "After this, we're going to work on your obedience," he continued as he lashed Lucius' hands together, palm to palm behind his neck. With one arm bound high and the other bound low behind his neck, Lucius' shoulders pulled into a stretch so helpless and profound that it stole his breath.

He gasped, struggling at first, then freezing as the movement ground his nipples just _so_ across the floor. "Won't… BE a a next-" he began, but then Remus rolled off his back, lifted away the crushing, and the defiant words guttered on his tongue.

"_Now_ you can struggle," Remus's mild voice filled the gap, "if you'd like to be subdued, that is." And he rested a hand on Lucius' hip -- neither grope nor grip nor stroke, just the solid weight of a heated palm through the silken robe. Ownership in a span of fingers and thumb, irrevocable and unmoved while Lucius tested his bonds, his bollocks, and his balance.

But the knots wouldn't give, and he couldn't flex his shoulders to lever himself over. The best he could manage to do was to get his knees up under him, which only lifted his arse high into the air, and pushed his face tight to the floorboards. The fingers on his hip tightened convulsively as Remus moved behind him with a growl. "Yes," rumbling and low as he pushed Lucius' robe up over his hips, exposed cock and bollocks and pale, splayed arse to the air, "yes, that's good."

_Good_ the word puffed across his clenched anus, echoed down his twitching shaft, and Lucius couldn't help but groan. He wanted release -- wanted it more desperately than he'd wanted anything he could remember, but he didn't know where to begin begging for it. He thrust the elbow beside his ear against the floor and managed to roll just enough to look down between his own legs and stare at his captor, kneeling behind him. Crouched low, scarred belly folded against itself so that the cock, a thrust of purple and scarlet against the pale skin, yearned up like a dowsing rod, straight toward…

Lucius groaned again, but it turned to a howl as Remus' tongue swept across his arse. Wet and hot and pressure and rough and smooth and Merlin, he was going to go blind if he didn't come soon, and he needed more, _NEEDED_ that tongue to dig and delve, and spread him wide, like strong fingers were spreading him wide, and those repulsive slurping noises only made it worse, dirtier, better, and saliva dripped cooling-hot down his rock-hard bollocks, and he couldn't stop himself rocking back, back, arching his spine, and _whining_.

The tongue withdrew, and Lucius nearly screamed.

"Please?" Remus echoed, and Lucius could just see him swipe the back of a fist across his face, straightening, bringing that hard, dripping cock closer to-

"Nnn-" he thrust back into the very _idea_, "Now! Please!"

"Yes," Remus breathed, and leaned over him. Thighs pressed close, knees just inside his own, and the smooth weight of that cockhead against his slick, sensitized anus was greater than the world. But then it began to press -- to split him wide with an inexorable intrusion so great, he couldn't even find the breath to scream.

And he would have screamed, because it hurt -- it _hurt_! How could he never have realized how this hurt, and it didn't seem to stop hurting as the cock just kept coming _in_. Only Remus knew that, it seemed, and he was patient, and he was careful, licking gently along his spine, stroking his ribs in long, firm slides that encouraged him to breathe through the rippling agony. And it helped some. Lucius sighed, blinked tears away and took a shuddering breath that made Remus' cock give a throb inside him.

"Good, Lucius," Remus murmured, and stretched to lick Lucius' left forearm where the memory of blunt teeth and crushing jaw made the fine hairs stand on end. The grazing touch of those teeth along his sundered Mark suddenly boiled Lucius' agony away, leaving only relief, and peace, and lust, and gratitude in its wake. "Yes, you see how it is now?" Remus murmured as Lucius sighed and relaxed into him, "See what I can give you?"

And though there was a part of Lucius which howled in outrage at the suggestion, it didn't take him much to ignore it -- not with that hot, weighty fullness pressing into him, not with those rough fingers sliding around his belly to stroke his cock, oh Merlin, at last his cock! With a wordless cry, Lucius thrust into the grip, not even minding that it dragged the cock a little way out of his arse. And then he needed to push back, reclaim it, receive it again, yield to it again as Remus' calloused fingers grazed his weeping cockhead. Back, forth, gentle rocking thrusts between thorny heavens while the floor pushed cold against his cheek and his hands slowly went numb.

And Remus was a solid stillness behind him, holding Lucius fast, steadying and supporting him with an arm around his heaving ribs, as though content to simply hold on and let Lucius fuck himself. Except, Lucius found, that suddenly wasn't enough. He stilled, though it was murder to do it, to give up the grip and the friction and rippling fullness -- he stilled but for the panting tremble in his belly and thighs. He stilled and he waited.

"All right?" Remus mouthed against his shoulder, fingers curling just a bit tighter around Lucius' shaft, making him gasp and bite his lip.

"You," Lucius fidgeted, tightened around Remus' cock just to feel the throb inside him -- not moving, not pushing back, but _wanting_ so badly. "Please, just -- You!"

"Yes." And Remus jerked back, took Lucius' arse in both hands, and slammed himself back home, "Ah, fuck yes!"

And suddenly there was pleasure blazing through the pain -- a spike in his guts that made his cock jump and thud up against his belly. Pleasure beyond the heat and friction, beyond the pressure stroking savagely over _that_ inside him, beyond the glowing ache of his lungs, or the cold-burn of his nipples scraping raw against the floor. This was pleasure in his knees, in his fingers, in the nape of his neck where his hair swung aside, exposing flesh to the air, to his -- to _him_!

"Come here." Remus thrust into him, short, sharp, brutal, "Come here NOW!" And he grasped Lucius' bound hands and a thick fistful of his hair, and _dragged_ him upright. A desperate arch. A ragged gasp that couldn't quite become a scream. The back of Lucius' head hit Remus' shoulder, and he was already craning aside, offering, yielding, demanding, begging for-

Remus' teeth sent him over the edge in a roaring, blinding rush. Lucius fell into the maelstrom with a wailing cry and did not for a moment wonder whether he would be caught.

~*~

Lucius awoke to the feeling of a tongue stroking long and soft across his belly. It didn't quite tickle, and after a second the licking traveled upward, seeming to focus on tiny streaks and spots of chill on his skin -- erasing them with a warmth that lingered even when the tongue had moved on.

He smiled, sighed and rolled his un-bound shoulders. "Nice," he murmured, and felt a prickly smile against his ribs by way of reward.

"Yes," Remus said against his navel, "I daresay you'll get used to it."

Lucius huffed a laugh, unable to summon any more ire at this point. He reached blindly for Remus' head, wound his fingers deeply into that soft hair, and gave a gentle tug -- a breath of demand buried under not-so-polite request. But Remus didn't seem to mind, and let himself be guided up to share a kiss, flavored with the sharp pungency of Lucius' own spend. He rather suspected he would come to know that taste well soon.

Remus settled close along his side, propped himself up on one elbow, and stared, his yellow eyes looking fey and sphinx-like in the flickering torchlight. "You can ask," he invited after a moment, "I'll tell you the truth."

_Did you know this would happen when you bit me? Did you mean for it to?  
Will you take everything from me now just to show you can?  
Have you truly broken the Morsmordre?  
Have you cursed me with the Moon, or only with yourself?_

Lucius swallowed. Those questions would answer themselves soon enough, and knowing those answers wouldn't change anything that had happened. For those truths, Lucius could wait. But Remus's eyes glowed amber with patient expectation, and there was another question burning through the taste of sex on his tongue.

"Did I-" he swallowed, then reminded himself firmly that Malfoys did not blush. "Did I please you…Remus?"

Remus laughed, stroked Lucius' hair from his brow. Tucking his head into the crook of Remus' shoulder, Lucius discovered that mirth made those scars across the wolf's face simply beautiful.

~Fin~


End file.
